


A Little Drop for Me

by dizzzylu



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: Later, Taylor will blame it on the road trip grind, the end of the season exhaustion. There is no logical reason for him to be thinking what he's thinking right now.





	A Little Drop for Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, me being all of twelve years old, I noticed that I was nearing the momentous approach of my 69th fic and I said to my friends, "Friends, what should my 69th fic be about?" thinking they'd pick from the stockpile of ideas I already had percolating. Of course I should've known better. Do I even need to say who it was that suggested vamp!Nico? Hallsy coming untouched? Let's just say her name starts with an N and I have no idea how I always end up giving in to her. 
> 
> That said, I made up my own mix of vampire lore (in my head), so please don't come at me if you don't agree with/like it. Variety is what fiction is all about. And wish fulfillment. Lots and looooots of wish fulfillment.
> 
> I appreciate your readership, regardless.

Later, Taylor will blame it on the road trip grind, the end of the season exhaustion. There is no logical reason for him to be thinking what he's thinking right now. He's been hurt a hundred times this season, bled through a fair few of them, he's sure. At no time did he ever give Nico's reaction a second thought, not even after they started sleeping together. But now here he is, studying the grip Nico has on the bench, the defenesive curl of his shoulders. The way Nico's breathing through his mouth, not his nose, and the dark gleam in his eye as he works hard not to stare at the blood on Taylor's face

Taylor gets distracted once the trainers swoop in, armed with orange slices and a styptic pen. Butterfly bandages just in case. He tries to pay attention to whatever Hynes is saying, but it's all muffled by the circle around him. They don't scatter until it's time to get back out on the ice, and Taylor almost loses Nico in the process. He finds him in the end, toward the front, and Taylor rests a hand on the tight line of Nico's shoulders, giving the pads a gentle shake. 

"Don't do anything stupid," Taylor murmurs into his ear.

Nico's head twitches, like he's trying to get rid of an annoying gnat. "I don't plan on it."

"For the record, murder is stupid."

A dimple emerges, the hint of a smile. "I'll think about it."

They make it through the power play without incident, and even the rest of the game, though Nico enjoys crushing Montour against the boards a little too much, his smile bright and vicious. The Devils still lose though, and normally that would mean going out and commiserating, but they're all gassed and have to leave first thing in the morning for San Jose. Greenie making the executive decision to commiserate at the hotel bar is met with weak whoops from everybody.

Everyone except Nico. Not that Taylor's surprised.

On the bus, with several rows of seats between them, Nico looks strung out, hands clenched tight on the arm rests, his limp hair hiding his face. Taylor tongues at the cut on his lip, a plan forming behind his eyes. A risky one probably, but Nico looks ready to vibrate out of his skin. Or rip someone's head off. And Taylor would bet cash money Nico isn't going to find what he's looking for at the hotel restaurant.

They split up at the hotel, some heading for the bar, more being led to a table in the corner. A couple of the marrieds peel off for the elevators, claiming kid time. That's the group Nico falls into, enduring some gentle chirping for, he claims, the sake of exhaustion. It's the most relaxed Taylor as seen him all day, definitely since the hit. Until Taylor slips into the elevator last minute, that is. Then Nico's hackles are back up, eyes boring holes into Taylor courtesy of the the reflective elevator doors. At least the others are oblivious to the impromptu staring contest, too focused on their phones to care. 

They reach their floor without fuss and scatter in opposite directions. Nico looks like he wants to snap at Taylor not to follow him, but as luck would have it, they're both going in the same direction. Are, in fact, two doors away from each other. Taylor couldn't have planned it better if he wanted to. He gives Nico space though, the width of a body between them, and telegraphs his plan to stop when Nico does. Nico still looks wary, caught between wanting to bolt and standing his ground.

"Can I come in? Just for a minute?" Taylor struggles to keep his expression neutral. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible, which is hilarious given what Taylor thinks he's put together about Nico tonight.

Nico looks him up and down once, eyes dark and calculating. He lets out a breath and slides his card in the lock. "If it's only a minute."

Taylor nods once and lays a hand over his heart. "I promise."

The inside of Nico's room looks like any other player's hotel room, if maybe a little bit neater, not that Taylor is surprised. Ever since Taylor first laid eyes on him, Nico's seemed older than his years, more proper, articulate and poised in a way the average nineteen year old could only hope to be. Taylor finds it equal parts intriguing and endearing, watching Nico scoop up a pile of clothes to make room for himself on the bed. "What do you need?"

Taylor takes a step forward, hands in his pockets, and says, "How hungry are you?"

Nico huffs a laugh and gestures at the door. "I already told them, I'm gonna order some room service. You don't have to hover."

"I'm not hovering," Taylor says. After a beat, "And that's not the kind of hungry I meant."

Something flares in Nico's eyes, there and gone in an instant, but his face is different now, too. Sharper, paler. Taylor notes Nico's fingers clutching at his knees, the fingertips white. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says. Then, "You should probably go." His voice is low, sounds kind of like glass grinding against gravel, and Taylor's stomach swoops. From fear, but also anticipation.

"I could go," Taylor says, jerking a thumb at the door. "Or I could stay, and you could eat."

Nico jerks up from the bed, one hand pushing the hair from his face. Taylor watches Nico's expression flit from anger to panic to need back to panic, all in the span of seconds. It's both fascinating and reassuring. He made the right choice, he just has to stick it through and make Nico see it, too.

Taylor rocks back as Nico shoves past him, startled and a little turned on, and spins on his heel so he can get to Nico before Nico gets the door open. He isn't sure it's a great idea to make Nico feel cornered, but it's the only shot Taylor has left.

He gets there the same time Nico turns the knob and throws his weight into keeping the door closed, caging in Nico, close enough that his back brushes against Taylor's chest. He wants to say something, be reassuring, _anything_ , but his mind is blank. He tips his head forward, until it touches Nico's, and sighs. "Can you just— turn around? Please?"

Nico shudders, a movement that rocks through the both of them. "You're going to regret this."

"Maybe." Taylor says, not meaning it, and hopes Nico doesn't hear his smile.

Even after all that, it still takes the span of several breaths for Nico to turn around, back against the door. Taylor watches him do it, inch by inch, until they're facing each other, Nico looking older and more put together than Taylor's ever seen him. Except for the deepening shadows under his eyes and his hollowed out cheeks. It's not the usual end of the season look, not even for a rookie, and Taylor wonders how he never noticed it before now. The most interesting part is how Taylor is the taller of the two of them, but he somehow feels small and pinned down. A flea in front of an elephant. 

He takes a reinforcing breath and cups Nico's cheek with one hand, thumb resting light against Nico's parted lips. "Can I see?"

Nico searches Taylor's eyes, assessing, and opens his mouth a little wider.

There's nothing to see at first, just plain white teeth, neat and even, but then the canines start to elongate, just a little bit, with a point forming at the ends. The lateral incisors, too. Not as long, but still pointy. Even the front two become a little jagged, as well as the four incisors on the bottom. Taylor realizes he's holding his breath and lets it out, awed and maybe a little disappointed.

"Not like it is in the movies, eh?" His eyes flick back up to Nico's, quick enough to catch the flash of annoyance, and brings up his other hand to keep Nico from turning away. "Hey, no," Taylor says. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just—" Taylor has no idea how to finish that statement, if he's honest. It's one thing to suspect your liney's a vampire. It's another to have the proof right in front of his face. He looks up at Nico again. "Can I uh, touch them?"

It takes a second, but Nico nods.

Objectively speaking, it's kind of weird to pet someone's teeth, but Taylor kind of can't help himself. They way Nico's fangs just morphed into shape without seeming to do anything, without Taylor ever taking his eyes off of them is fascinating. It's almost as if Taylor expects them to have a completely different texture than the non-fanged teeth, but they don't. They're just as flat and smooth as all the others. Except for how they end in tiny points. If Taylor's honest with himself, they don't look very intimidating. He almost can't imagine them breaking the skin at all, not without a lot of power behind it. 

That lasts until he grazes a tip with the pad of his thumb and Taylor's too fascinated by the bead of blood to think about the significance. A hand around his wrist brings him back to the present, and then he's looking into Nico's eyes; wet, inky black where Taylor's used to warm brown. It's jarring, and a little terrifying, but Nico seems dazed, too. Wary, his breath (can it be called breath if he's dead?) coming in short pants. The drop of blood on Taylor's thumb trickles down to make room for another. It looks like it takes everything Nico has not to lap at it, his shoulders shaking as he restrains himself.

"Do it," Taylor rasps, feeling brave and reckless all once.

Nico makes a little noise, a cross between a whimper and a growl, and lets his eyes slide shut. His tongue is warm against Taylor's skin, rough and slick, coaxing the blood from Taylor's thumb. Taylor guesses it isn't near enough, not for someone as starved as Nico seems, but it looks like he's enjoying it anyway, letting out these needy little grunts that sound so much like the noises he makes when Taylor jerks him off. 

Something dark swirls low in Taylor's gut, and he presses forward with a knee, wedging it between Nico's thighs. Nico lets out a breath through his nose and sinks into it, letting Taylor take his weight while Nico suckles Taylor's thumb. Taylor should probably spare a few minutes picking apart the weightless feeling in his chest, but his brain's much more focused on how Nico can get more blood faster. And the most comfortable way to do it. 

Nico comes back to himself after another minute, the black seeping out of his eyes. "How do you feel?" he asks, looking worried. Young. Hungry, still.

Taylor could answer right away. Could blurt out, "fine" and guide them toward the bed, but Nico deserves more than that. If he's going to trust that Taylor's not jumping into this head first, Taylor needs to take a moment to check in with himself. He's not surprised that the only weirdness he finds is the slight sting to his thumb and the half chub he's sporting. Nico was near fellating his thumb for a second, Taylor dares _anybody_ to not react to that.

"I'm okay," he says, touched by Nico's flicker of relief. "But that can't be all you need."

"Taylor, I—" 

Taylor kisses him quiet, tongue flicking at the space where, a second ago, there were fangs. Nico tries to gasp, but Taylor swallows it, deepening the kiss until Nico is clutching at Taylor's lapels, keeping him close. Taylor uses the distraction to start moving toward the bed. Tiny steps, hardly noticeable, until Taylor drops down and guides Nico into his lap, one firm hand curled behind Nico's neck. That's when Nico pulls back, gulping down air he doesn't need. His eyes are black again, both chilling and mesmerizing, and he takes Taylor's face in his hands, thumbs rubbing over Taylor's sideburns, to get Taylor's attention.

"You are insane," he says. It's not a question.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Taylor licks his lips. "I've made worse decisions."

Nico says, "I somehow doubt that," and gives Taylor's head a shake. 

Taylor drags his teeth over the heel of Nico's hand while his fingers fumble with the buttons of his own shirt. "Eight months we've been playing together — three months since we started sleeping together — and you still can't believe I trust you?" He tugs his shirt out of his pants with a huff. "I think I'm insulted.

"That's different," Nico says, riding the wave of Taylor's impatience.

One arm still in its sleeve, Taylor pauses and locks eyes with Nico. "Only if you let it be."

Nico studies Taylor's face for long moments, his hands cool against Taylor's cheeks. Finally, with a small nod, he slips out of Taylor's lap and says, "I've been lying to you this whole time." For a second, Taylor thinks that's the end of the conversation, but Nico's reaching for the buttons on his sleeve, a lock of hair falling into his face. 

Taylor sighs and toes out of his shoes. "We'll talk about that," he says, relieved. "When you're not starving yourself. Now how do you want me?" For the first time all night, Nico looks at Taylor like he _wants_ Taylor there, and not just because he's hungry. It sends a rush of heat to Taylor's groin and he squirms under Nico's chilling eyes.

"It depends on where you want me to bite you." Nico says it casually, almost like he doesn't care, but there's a brittle tilt to his shoulders, and the way his attention is focused on undoing his belt gives him away. 

"I have a choice?" For his part, Taylor never thought much about multiple access points. Well, he can vaguely recall anatomy and physiology and how the major arteries are laid out in the body, but the neck seemed like the obvious choice. Easy to get to. No muss, no fuss. And it's not like Taylor has a problem being straddled by Nico. Pinned down and caged in. "I just figured—" he wiggles a finger at his neck and shrugs. "But if you have a better option, I'm all ears."

Stripped down to black boxer briefs, Nico fits himself between Taylor's knees and skims his knuckles along Taylor's throat. "I can do it here," he says, soft, his gaze zeroed in on Taylor's pulse. "But it'll leave a mark, like a weak hickey. I don't—" His eyes flick to Taylor's and back again; he swallows. 

Taylor hears what he isn't saying: in the months they've been doing… whatever it is they want to call it (neither of them have had the time to figure it out yet), they never leave marks that can't be hidden or explained away by a solid hit.

"Where then?" Taylor asks, voice starting to sound thick. He looks down at himself, assessing, and offers up a wrist. "Here?"

Nico shakes his head and guides Taylor's hand down, to the inside of his thigh. "Femoral artery," he rasps. 

Taylor stares down at their hands, Nico's thumb sweeping over Taylor's knuckles. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Have you done it there before?" He squints up at Nico, fighting not to think about how that would look, how it's going to feel, Nico stretched out between Taylor's legs, his hot mouth inches from where Taylor usually wants it. Taylor tries to hold in a shiver and fails.

Nico squeezes his hand. "Once." The way he says it feels like there's a story behind it. Part of Taylor isn't sure he wants to know.

And yet.

"Is it dangerous?"

Nico shakes his head.

Taylor folds their fingers together and sighs. "Then what's the problem?"

"You might--" Nico pauses and looks away. "You'll get hard," he says with a sigh.

Taylor gets the sense that wasn't Nico wanted to say, but he's not going to push right now. Instead, he gestures at his dick with his free hand. "Kinda halfway there, sweetheart." The flash of Nico's dimples are the best thing Taylor's seen all night. 

Nico startles back as Taylor stands, but Taylor reels him in for another kiss, this one more reassuring than intent, one hand squeezing Nico's neck while the other works at getting his own pants open and off. It only takes a few seconds for Nico to get with the program and fumble for the zipper. The next thing Taylor knows, Nico's dropping to his knees, dragging his teeth along the length of Taylor's thigh while he helps Taylor out of his pants and boxers. This, at least, feels familiar. Easy, even.

Once Taylor's pants are neatly folded and placed on top of a chair , Taylor drags him close, palms skimming over flawless skin, and inches their way toward the bed. For his part, Nico seems all in now, clutching at Taylor's elbows, tilting his head to the side as Taylor sucks a line of kisses along his jaw. When the back of his knees hit mattress, Taylor has a sudden thought and pulls away with a reluctant drag of teeth. 

"Should we put down a towel or something?" 

Nico, for all that his eyes are a wet, endless black, looks confused for half a second. Then he smiles and shoves Taylor onto the bed. "I'm four hundred and thirty six years old," he says, skinning out of his boxers. Naked, he prowls up the bed, up the length of Taylor's body, his eyes inky and alive. Taylor's never felt more like prey in his life. "I know how to eat without making a mess." Nico's tongue darts out to lick his lips, revealing a flash of fang that makes Taylor flush hot all over. For the first time since they left the arena, Nico looks confident, if still hollowed out. Even with his vampire eyes, hair fallen in his face, it's a good look on him. A look that captivated Taylor from the jump.

Taylor takes a deep breath, palms skating along cool, sleek thighs, and says, "Then what are you waiting for?"

"I'm waiting for you to relax," Nico says with a smirk. He leans in then, weight on his forearms, to kiss Taylor wet and thorough. Just when Taylor's lungs are about to burst, he pulls back a little, tugging at Taylor's lip with his teeth, and says, "You'll taste better that way."

Taylor yelps out a laugh, shivering at the drag of fangs along his collar bone. He reaches out for Nico's head, his fingers itching to tug on all that soft hair, but he's stopped by strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

"Not tonight," Nico rasps against a nipple. He eyes dart up to meet Taylor's, looking apologetic. "I don't—" Nico swallows and looks away. "I don't react well to that. When I'm eating."

Taylor nods. "Okay," he says. "That's fair." He slips his hands under the pillows instead and breathes deep as Nico kisses and sucks his way down Taylor's body, his lips cool everywhere they touch. By the time Nico reaches Taylor's groin, Taylor is hard and restless. Needy, almost, to get some kind of relief for his dick. No sooner does he think about asking if he can jerk off first than Nico's tongue is dragging along the length of him, from root to tip in a wet, hot slide. 

"Okay then," Taylor breathes out, his body melting into the bed. Nico chuckles, a cool burst of air across the tip of Taylor's dick, and licks him again, slower this time, with extra attention paid to the slit. Taylor had no idea how tense he was until he wasn't. He feels like so much jelly now, limp and pliant. It gets worse-slash-better as Nico continues to suck him, the deliberate slide of his mouth particularly devastating tonight, now that Taylor knows his secret, and how close he is to deadly fangs. 

It doesn't take long for Nico to get Taylor off; a judicious application of spit, a swirl of tongue around the head. The tip of Taylor's dick dragging along the roof of Nico's mouth. Taylor's orgasm washes over him like a wave, sweet and easy, until he's nothing more than a puddle of skin and bones, happy and relaxed.

"That's better," Nico murmurs, gently making room for himself between Taylor's thighs. His mouth is hot against Taylor's skin, a decided contrast to the cool fingers arranging Taylor's legs like a rag doll. Taylor tries to help, to not be such a dead weight, but Nico's grip is firm and Taylor figures (hopes?) Nico knows what he's doing. In a way, it's kind of nice, being manhandled into position. It's not something Taylor's used to. 

Once Nico is satisfied, he props himself up on his elbows, looking serious again, despite the boyish fall of his hair. "Ready?"

Taylor nods, still a little fuzzy in the higher functions department.

"It's going to hurt at first," Nico says, a worried tilt to his eyebrows. "Like a shot. But my spit—" he gestures at his mouth "—my saliva, it." His face scrunches up a little, which looks really weird with the black eyes. "It helps. It's a whole thing."

Taylor nods again, body rolling in a restless wave. "I'll be okay," he says, wanting to pet Nico's hair. "I can take it."

Nico surges forward, clumsy, and kisses Taylor, wet and desperate. "You're amazing," he rasps, arranging himself between Taylor's legs again. "Ridiculous, but amazing."

Taylor has all of two seconds to think of a comeback before something pinches hard in his thigh. It goes off like a starburst behind his eyes, sharp and angry, receding to a dull throb within a few gulping breaths. 

At first, all Taylor can register is the weight of Nico on his leg, the cool press of fingers contrasting with his hot mouth, and the occasional tease of soft hair against his skin. But then he feels this lazy swoop, like someone tied a string to his insides and is trying to coax them out. A deep, sluggish pulse that starts in his groin and spools out, spreading through every part of him. For all that Nico is taking from Taylor, it feels like he's giving something back, too. Like he's replacing Taylor's blood with liquid sunshine, warm and sweet and so, so bright. 

Taylor smiles up at the ceiling, fingers clenching around a pillow, and squirms, looking for…something. Anything really. His hips just wanna rock, but Nico won't let him, his body pinning Taylor's legs in place. It makes sense, in a distant sort of way, but that doesn't make it any less necessary for Taylor to move. He makes a noise, halfway between a groan and a whimper, and tries to breathe through it.

"Doing okay?" Nico asks, after a few minutes. It sounds wet and lispy, muffled by Taylor's skin, but the gravel there, the way his voice rasps is the same as if he'd been sucking Taylor's cock. The sandpaper over steel grit that lights up all of Taylor's nerves. 

He looks down then, half a smile on his face, and winks. "Never better."

Nico rolls his eyes, a strange quirk with them as black as they are, and turns back to Taylor's thigh.

With his eyes still following the length of his body, Taylor's surprised to see he's hard again, but it explains why he wants to move so much. He thinks he could jerk himself off, if it really came to that — he could be careful to not touch Nico, probably — but Nico's hand is right there, splayed wide, thumb resting just behind Taylor's balls. Combined with the how it feels like Taylor's being turned into taffy, one drugging pull after another, it ratchets up his need to move, to fuck up into something. He was to squirm but he _can't_. 

Taylor bites his lip to muffle a sob.

In response, Nico presses down harder, five points of pressure that should maybe be scary, considering the power behind them, but Taylor can only throw his head back and moan. He's long past the point of worrying about whether Nico will lose himself and suck Taylor dry. He can't even baseball stats his way out of this, in an attempt to will away his hard on. His only concern is how to get a hand on his dick without losing it to razor sharp teeth.

He whines out Nico's name between clenched teeth. 

"I'm almost done," Nico slurs, thumb petting the skin behind Taylor's balls. "You're doing great."

Taylor flashes him a quick smile. "Can I just—" he gestures at his flushed dick, the shine of precome pearling from the slit. 

Nico drags his thumb along the length, from tip to root. "Can you wait?" he asks, looking the slightest bit worried. "If you can wait, I promise I'll make it good for you."

Taylor's head falls back onto the pillow, his breath leaving him in a huff. He can't imagine this getting any better. Or worse, for that matter. He squeezes his dick anyway, firm, and sighs. "Yeah," he sighs, noticing for the first time how dry his mouth is. "I think so."

A warm tongue passes over Taylor's balls, almost making him vibrate out of his skin, but it's there and gone in a second, Nico's mouth back on his thigh, slick and hot. 

The problem is, Taylor lied a little bit. He isn't sure he _can_ wait, but Nico looked too sweet and earnest to say no to. All Taylor can do now is hold onto the pillow and try not to make too much noise.

Which is, as it turns out, not possible. It does take a while for Taylor to realize the needy whimpering is coming from himself, so that's something.

At this point, his whole body feels like its on fire, smoldering from the inside out in the best possible way. Like if he could get a hand on his dick now, he'd just scald himself with how hot his skin is. He's a sticky, sweaty mess, and the only thing he wants is to grab Nico's hair and come all over his perfect face. He can see it so, so clearly, too: white streaking across bloody lips, sticking in his eyelashes and hair. " _Fuck_ ," Taylor hisses out, fingers clenching in his own hair now. A poor substitute for what they really need.

Just as Taylor's about to throw in the towel and take his chances, Nico adjusts Taylor's body, wedging a shoulder under Taylor's right leg, and something inside of Taylor cracks open, wide and raw and overwhelming. He cries out and curls up into it, hands twisted in the sheets. In the surprise, his eyes pop open and he can see Nico's head, a few flyaway strands of his hair stuck to Taylor's skin, and his own dick, spurting all over his lower stomach and Nico's fingers.

It takes a minute for Taylorto fall back to the bed, eyes closed against the sweat beading his forehead. He feels almost empty now, his brain little more than white noise. He can't tell if Nico's still eating, and doesn't have the energy to glance down and check. Every part of him is wrung out, limp in the best possible way, and the only thing he can do is hope that Nico won't let him bleed out all over the bed.

Things blur together for a while; Taylor thinks he might hear a noise, someone talking, low. Maybe a door, or some water. The wind? The point is, time passes and Taylor can't give a fuck. He's just had the best orgasm of his life, courtesy of his vampire-maybe-boyfriend, and he can't be sure if he'll even be functional again.

At some point, a weight settles on his hips. Somewhere, somehow, Taylor gathers his wits enough to open one eye halfway, to see Nico watching him, his worried eyes back to their friendly brown. 

"How're you feeling?" he asks, hands spread wide at Taylor's waist. He gives a squeeze, drawing Taylor's gaze down. Nico's dick is hard, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him. Not that Taylor has the coordination to do anything about it anyway.

Taylor closes his eye and takes stock of his body; still limp, still heavy, still weak. He re-opens both eyes and the room spins. "I might need some water," he croaks, tongue dry and clumsy.

Nico pets his side and sighs. "I should've ordered room service beforehand, so we wouldn't have to wait." A bottle appears in his hand, some kind of vampire magic, probably, and he inches forward, helping Taylor to tilt up enough to accept small, careful sips. "I got you steak and potatoes and a salad," he says. "And a gallon of orange juice."

Taylor chuckles, low, and starts to wonder about the ache in his shoulders. He rolls his head to the side to see if that'll release some tension, only to remember that his arms have been tucked under his pillow for some time, hands clenched tight to keep them from drifting. He unfolds them with a wince and eases his arms back to his sides, palms resting on Nico's thighs. Nico's skin is warmer now that he's fed, and feels familiar again.

"We should take care of that while we wait," Taylor says with a lazy, fingers drifting toward Nico's dick. Nico stills them with a touch, head tipping forward. Taylor both loves and hates the way Nico's hair falls into his face. It makes him look so young and sweet, but it also prevents Taylor from reading his face.

"I'm fine," Nico murmurs, thumb settling over the pulse in Taylor's wrist.

"But I want to." Taylor grunts and tries to roll his body. Nico doesn't even have to use his preternatural strength; Taylor's far too uncoordinated for anything more than petting Nico's thighs."Damn it," he sighs.

Nico smiles down at him, head angled enough for Taylor to see his dimples. "That's sweet, but you're definitely not ready for that yet." He lifts one of Taylor's hand to kiss the palm and lowers it again. "I'll be fine, just rest. And have some more water." He inches forward with the bottle, giving Taylor a closer look at his dick, the shiny head emerging from the foreskin. There's nothing more that Taylor wants right now than to get his mouth on that, to pinch to foreskin between his lips and tease the inside of it with his tongue, but Nico's right. Taylor's weaker than a kitten right now. 

Of course that doesn't mean Nico can't get himself off.

"You should do it, then," Taylor says after a few more sips of water. Nico's thumb swipes at a drop slinking along Taylor's jaw and Taylor angles his head to bite at it, looking up at Nico with wide, innocent eyes.

Nico tilts forward, weight braced on his forearms, bringing them nose to nose. "I. Can. Wait," he says, punctuating each word with a soft, dry kiss. 

Taylor chases after his mouth, looking for something deeper, hotter. A bold enough distraction for him to get his arm around around Nico's back, to inch his legs open, wide enough for Nico to settle between. Nico gasps and nips at Taylor's bottom lip, hips grinding into the new friction. 

"That's cheating," he says, dragging blunt teeth along Taylor's jaw. 

Taylor shudders at the hint of fang and says, "I want to make you feel good." He wiggles around a little more, dizzy and giggling at the tongue tracing shapes over his pulse, until Nico fits neatly between his legs, hips already working out their own careful rhythm. 

"I already feel good," Nico mumbles around Taylor's Adam's apple. 

Feeling giddy, Taylor gets his hands on Nico's ass and pulls him in, using what little strength he has to buck up into it. "Just shut up and come on me."

Nico whines around a curse, but he starts moving. A gentle grind that develops into more of a stuttering slide as the sweat gathers between them, mixing with Taylor's own come. It's clumsy but good, their cheeks bumping together, Nico's breath (does he breathe???) warm along Taylor's skin. Taylor doesn't have much in the way of strength or coordination, but he can lean into the scrape of Nico's stubble. Can murmur filthy words into Nico's ear. The more he says, the faster Nico grinds, hard enough to make the room spin.

That could also be the blood loss talking.

Either way, Taylor rides (heh) it out, until Nico's grunting is nothing more than brittle snatches of Swiss-German. It's a sign Taylor knows well, so he skims his hands along Nico's spine and fists his hands in his hair. Nico snarls at the tug, his eyes edging back to that endless black, and comes, adding to the mess of Taylor's sticky body. He lets Nico drag himself through it, smearing come and sweat all over themselves, and chuckles once Nico slows, still riding the reckless wave of his own euphoria.

They lay like that for a while, Nico flopped over Taylor like a well-muscled starfish. His breath is still hot against Taylor's sweaty neck though, and it makes Taylor wonder. 

"How come you still breathe?" He asks, quiet. The dizziness is starting to fade now, which is a relief. 

Nico mutters, "Vampire magic," and squirms, mouthing at Taylor's shoulder. 

Taylor jiggles his arm, earning himself a sharp nip. "C'mon," he says, putting a little whine into it. "Tell me how it works. I promise I'll keep your secret." 

"Later," Nico huffs, shifting onto his side. He props up his head with one hand, the other curved over the pulse in Taylor's neck, heavy and reassuring. "You need to drink more. And eat. I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know." He gives Taylor's head a shake. " _After_."

"Oh fine," Taylor sighs. He takes the opportunity to mull over this whole new side of Nico. He should probably be pissed, maybe even scared. Careful, at the very least, but he only feels the same things he did before: warmth, friendship, camaraderie, concern. Perhaps, even, the tender beginnings of love. It's something they'll have to talk about at some point, when Taylor's not so loopy. "Will you answer one question, though?"

Nico's eyes narrow. 

Taylor holds up a hand in surrender. "It's not about the breathing, I promise!"

"Go ahead," Nico says, still looking skeptical. 

"Are you really four hundred and thirty six years old? Cuz I gotta say," Taylor licks his lips to fight back a smirk. "You don't look a day over four hundred."

Nico leans in, his eyes bleeding black, and scrapes his fangs over Taylor's lower lip. "You are such an asshole."

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what just happened either. Thanks for reading!


End file.
